I'm feeling very moody, in a Bette Davis, All About Eve, sort of way.
I don't want to do anything productive. All I really want to do is retire to my boudoir with a bottle of liquor in one hand, and the TV remote in the other. My beloved isn't really getting me today, so he is practicing his expertly-honed avoidance techniques. OR, I should say that he was practicing those skills until he discovered that half of the chocolate covered cherries, and ALL of the chocolate covered cranberries are gone. "We were going to take those to the party tonight", attempting to sound confronting -- Button it up, Buster! I am having ISSUES!
I don't want to see people. I don't want to do anything planned. And, I especially don't want anyone showing up at my house for a visit. I just really, really want to lie around with the remote in my hand. Really. It's the last day of 2007, and I think I want to end it with a whimper. Some people don't want me to have what I want, thus the bumpy ride. Now, If I had that dress Bette is wearing perhaps I could handle the day with more grace. That is a damn sexy dress. Notice that it has sleeves. It has sleeves because no woman likes to expose her arms. 99% of all women do not like the way their arms look in sleeveless attire yet, 95% of all evening wear is sleeveless. Why is this? I don't get it. I have several evening gowns, and cocktail dresses; all of which are sans sleeves. I just ordered two today. NO FREAKING SLEEVES. However, they were 70% off. (I also bought a lovely wrap with the same discount).
We are going to a fabulous party tonight -- of course, that is what is expected of fabulous goddesses. I know that I will have a lot of fun. I know that I will look gorgeous, hot and sexy beyond words. That is not the point. I am in hibernation mode. Due to this randomly occurring manifestation I will moan and groan about having to get ready all day, torturing everyone (my husband) around me. Bumpity, bump, bump, bump. If only I had Bette's dress, maybe I wouldn't be so bitchy about doing something that requires me to change out of my pajamas, and leave the house.
May peace and flattering evening attire be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.
Today the goddess speaks about herself: I feel incompetent at the stupid MySpace site, and I am tired of it. I am completely frustrated with my inability to post videos on my blog. This is not rocket science people. It isn't even junk science.
Why can't I do it?????? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?
Here is a cute picture to make everyone feel better. At least I know how to upload pictures.
May peace and cute nieces be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.
Two days until I will be living it up in Hawaii! I can hardly wait to get back to the beach. I can smell the surf and feel the sand between my toes.
The waves are calling, "Everyone weighs less in the water".
I am sitting here in my new bathing suit and fabulous matching cover-up. So, the halter top pulls slightly on the back of my neck. So what? This is the second suit, same as the first, in a larger size, that I've had shipped to me this week. I don't have time to order yet another one. I should have gone with the long torso suit. Every time I do, though, the crotch hangs down. I'd rather have a crick in my neck than an exposed crotch. It wouldn't be decent (I'm an outie). Plus, I would be over-exposed, if you know what I mean. I didn't go for the bikini wax, but I did do some major remodeling -- I may have gotten a little carried away with the electric razor. (Shhh, don't tell my husband; I'm not supposed to use his beard trimmer).
I do wish I had done the spray-on tan thing. I am so white. I am beyond white. I am white on white. I'd rub on some instant tanning lotion if I could do it without turning my hands seven shades of sienna, while the rest of me is merely transformed to a shade of sickly- ecru. I've just never had any luck with fake tan. It is funny how I spend a fortune on products that protect my skin from the sun, but one week out of every year I spend a much larger chunk of change to travel somewhere that I can purposely damage it. It makes no sense. Really darling, I don't care about making sense when it comes to my island vacation. All I care about is reveling in the sand, sea, sun and mai tais.
So, picture me: catching a wave, on my surf board, in my sexy new bathing suit, while holding a perfectly balanced, umbrella drink in my hand. I'll be the extraordinarily hot, white chick with the hunchback, and all of her bits and pieces tidily covered.
May peace and a strong sense of style be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.
Oh, look! I'm a awake and it's the middle of the night. Shocker of shockers, I am not sleeping through the night. Despite my doc's best efforts, I still wake up after a few hours. Sometimes I stay in bed, but that only disturbs the heavenly, snoring one. He doesn't always sleep through the night either. However, his sleepless nights are fewer.
I wonder what other people with my condition do? I usually scan the online tabloids. I know more about the lives of strangers, as seen behind a camera lens, than I do about members of my own family. Last Thursday, I was actually searching for Britney Spears' address, in my address book, to send her a Christmas card. But, what do others do? Do they write the great American novel? Do they knit hats for the homeless? Or, are they as shallow as me when I'm not sleeping? I think of doing something more worthwhile with my unplanned time. It is just that I am so tired, cranky, and bleary eyed. Yes, I could be writing to my legislators, or soldiers in the war, but I am not. I am not, I am not, I am not.
I feel another list coming on. This one will provide me with alternate, more altruistic endeavors for my sleepless nights. I will keep it by my computer to refer to when I'm thinking about Brad and Angie dragging their kids all over the globe. How many schools has their oldest child attended in the last two years anyway? I think it's 12.
Of course, I will have to be careful that I don't do something really rash in my befuddled state. I could get up in the morning to find that I have adopted an orphan, or three, from an internet orphanage. I'm sure that is possible. I'm such a sucker for little kids. I can identify 13 out of 15 babies belonging to movie stars, by their picture alone. (I just love those Us Weekly quizzes).
I'd better get back into bed before I do too much for the world. I don't think I've done the proper research. I could end up offering to drive Lindsey to rehab when I really meant to offer to build a school in Afghanistan.
May peace and better drugs be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.
One can cause a lot of confusion by calling up a friend, when not in one's right mind. This happened to me this week. I truly regret making my friend worry about me for even a second. It was selfish on my part. I was feeling silly and lonely. I reached out without thinking of the consequences. May a level head be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.
Today the goddess speaks about herself: I am amazing! I don't know how I do it, but everyday my students love me. Today, Tylor Christie said, "You are so pretty". Six years old, and he is the most astute male on the planet. I am so pretty. May a heady compliment from an unexpected quarter be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.